


Quentin Shouldn't Make Bets ... or Should He?

by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Costumes, Crossdressing, First Kiss, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 11:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15484461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: Quentin loses a bet to Margo ... which means she gets to dress him up for the Physical Kids' costume party.  He should be embarrassed, but maybe it's the best thing to happen to him.





	Quentin Shouldn't Make Bets ... or Should He?

Sometimes Quentin was a dumbass.

“Yeah, sometimes you really are,” Margo said.

“I said that out loud?” Quentin said.

“In third person and everything,” Margo said as she pushed Quentin to the bathroom. “Now go and shower.”

“I showered this morning,” Quentin said.

“Don’t care, go shower and exfoliate,” Margo said.

“I still can’t believe I lost that bet,” Quentin said as he stepped into the bathroom.

“I still don’t know why you didn’t cast a probability spell to check before you made the bet,” Margo said. “Either way I won, you lost, now go shower.”

Quentin sighed and closed the door to the bathroom before undressing and stepping into the shower. Margo had weird ways of knowing things, so Quentin made sure to both shampoo and condition his hair and to exfoliate. When he stepped out, Quentin wrapped a towel around his waist then wrapped his hair in a towel turban.

“I heard the water stop, get out here!”

Quentin jumped a bit as Margo’s voice sounded through the door.

“Not even going to let me dry off?” Quentin said as he opened the bathroom door.

“I don’t trust you to do it right,” Margo said.

“It’s just drying off,” Quentin muttered.

“You’ll irritate your skin,” Margo said. “Just hold still and I’ll do a quick drying spell. Then you’ll moisturize and get dressed.”

Quentin watched Margo’s fingers and then suddenly a warm wind whipped around him, drying him off in just a few seconds.

“That’s a time saver,” Quentin said.

“Yep, lets me sleep in a bit,” Margo said, “now drop the towel and moisturize.”

Quentin clutched at the towel around his waist. “Can you … I mean, aren’t you going to give me some privacy?” he said.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before, Q,” Margo said. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Quentin sighed and dropped the towel, reaching for the lotion Margo held out to him. “Not telling me what I’m going as?” he asked as he applied lotion to his skin. The Physical Kids, in a normal show of oddity, were hosting a costume party. In February.

“Nope, not yet,” Margo said. “You’ll find out when you get dressed.”

That didn’t make Quentin any less anxious about the whole situation as he finished applying lotion, then turned to face Margo.

“Moisturized,” Quentin said.

“Okay, put this on first,” Margo said, passing Quentin a piece of black mesh fabric with solid black polka dots on it. 

Quentin took the fabric and turned it over in his hands, exploring it a bit. There seemed to be too many holes, though, and Quentin gave Margo a confused look.

“What is this?” Quentin asked.

“It’s called a perk it up butt lifter,” Margo said. “Step in here, legs go here, these bands here lift your butt and this part goes between your cheeks. The front acts to trim your tummy a bit.”

Quentin’s eyes widened a bit and he blushed bright red as Margo explained the garment to him, instinctively wrapping his arms around his stomach.

“And you want me to wear that?” Quentin asked.

“Yep, and since you lost the bet, you’re going to step up and step into the butt lifter,” Margo said.

Quentin frowned but complied and tugged the garment on. The bands felt funny against his thighs and Quentin could actually feel them lifting his ass. The construction of the garment left Quentin’s ass exposed with just a strip of fabric tucked between his ass cheeks; the whole thing felt weird and Quentin kept wiggling, trying to get used to it.

“Stop wiggling,” Margo said as she tugged at the top of the butt lifter, making it sit higher against Quentin’s stomach.

“It feels funny,” Quentin muttered.

“You’ll get used to it,” Margo said, then motioned to her bed. “Now, here’s the rest of your costume for tonight.”

Quentin tried not to wiggle as he looked at the items of clothing on the bed and frowned - it all looked very familiar. Long sleeve black v-neck sweater with two white stripes at the bottom, each wrist and the v. Black knee high socks with three white stripes around the top. Black heeled ankle boots with white laces. 

And a black skirt.

It was a Welters uniform. More accurately it was Margo’s Welters uniform.

“I’m going as … you?” Quentin whispered.

“Well, more accurately, a watered down me with like, 80% more body hair."

Quentin followed Margo’s gaze to his arms and resisted the urge to hide them behind his back.

“But yes, you’re going to the party as me,” Margo continued, “so get dressed. We still have to do your hair and makeup and I still have to get ready.”

Quentin bit his lip and eyed the clothes warily. The sweater seemed the less scary, so he took the towel off his hair, slipped the sweater on and tugged on the hem a bit to get it situated. The socks were also less scary, so Quentin slid those on as well, tugging them so the tops sat just below his knees. Logically Quentin knew he shouldn’t put the boots on before the skirt, so he reached for the skirt and slipped it on, fingers shaking as he settled it around his waist. The skirt kept brushing against Quentin’s bare ass and he shivered a bit at the feeling.

“Do I do the b-boots now?” Quentin asked, tugging at the skirt a bit as he turned to Margo.

“No, we’ll do those last,” Margo said, walking over to Quentin and smacking his hands away from the skirt. “Stop tugging.”

Quentin frowned when Margo adjusted the skirt, setting the waistband of the skirt a bit higher, which only served to pull the hemline of the skirt higher, leaving Quentin feeling every exposed.

“I feel silly,” Quentin muttered.

“Well, you’re not done yet,” Margo said. “You’ll see it when you’re all done. Now come on, we need to move quickly.”

Quentin let Margo drag him to the bathroom where he tried to sit demurely on the toilet seat. He alternated between tugging at and smoothing down his skirt.

“Aww you’re cute,” Margo said as she approached him with comb, brush, blow dryer and flat iron. “Cross your legs at the ankle, Q. A lady reveals nothing.”

Quentin eyed the implements warily, hesitantly crossing his legs at the ankle. “What are you going to do?”

“Turn you into me,” Margo said. “Or at least coerce your hair into some semblance of a style I would wear if it were as short as yours. Now sit still and let me work.”

Quentin sat silently as Margo worked, secretly hoping she made him so unrecognizable that no one knew it was him. First with the comb, then the brush and the blow dryer, then with the flat iron. Margo finished off with a white headband and a spray of hairspray.

“Done?” Quentin asked.

“With your hair,” Margo said. “Face next. We’re just going to do some work on the eyes, maybe a little lip gloss.”

“Margo.” Quentin tried not to whine.

“Next time don’t bet me about anything,” Margo said, “because I always win.”

Quentin sighed and let Margo work, could feel her tugging at his eyelids, his eyelashes, his lips. 

“I think I feel sillier,” Quentin said when Margo finally stepped back.

“You don’t look it,” Margo said, hands on her hips. “Now, go right into the bedroom and get the boots on - no seeing yourself incomplete. I’m going to get dressed and meet you out there in a minute.”

Quentin stood and carefully made his way into the bedroom where he slipped the ankle boots on and tied them tight to make sure they wouldn’t slip off. He’d just finished tying the second boot when the bathroom door opened and Margo stepped out dressed like … 

“A pirate?” Quentin said. Margo was dressed in high waisted brown pants, a white flowing shirt tucked into the pants that only enhanced her cleavage, a brown vest, bright red sash around her waist, brown boots and a big brown floppy hat.

“A pirate king,” Margo said. “Now, the party should be in full swing by now and we can make our appearance.”

“In full … Margo everyone will stare!”

“That’s the point,” Margo said. “I look too good for everyone not to stare and you, if I do say so myself, are some of my best work.”

“Margo,” Quentin whined.

“Nope, we’re going downstairs and joining the party,” Margo said, crossing the room and poking Quentin in the side. “But first, you need to see yourself. Get the full effect.”

Quentin followed Margo over to the mirror, stumbling a bit as she pushed him forward so he could see his reflection.

“Woah,” Quentin whispered. Margo had styled his hair in an almost sixties style flip with a white headband and had done something with his eyes that made them seem bigger than they were and his lips looked all shiny. He turned to the side a bit, shivering again as his skirt swished and brushed against his ass. With the heeled boots and the butt lifter, his ass looked … 

“Even better than when you were wearing your Brakebills whites,” Margo said, smacking Quentin on the ass.

“Margo!” Quentin squeaked.

“You’re adorable,” Margo said. “But we better get going. So go. Carefully, but go.”

Quentin sighed and led the way down the hall and down the stairs; the party was definitely in full swing and Quentin was very self conscious as he descended the stairs and reached the first floor.

“Okay I came to the party, can I go now?” Quentin asked.

“Nope, you need to stay and at least have a drink,” Margo said. “People have to see you Q, otherwise this was all for nothing.”

“Fine,” Quentin said with a sigh. “One drink.”

“Good girl,” Margo said with a wink, pressing a kiss to Quentin’s cheek before disappearing into the crowd.

Quentin groaned and tried to find a tray of drinks so he could have his one and then get back up to his room. He grabbed a drink off the nearest drink tray and took a sip, trying to find a quiet corner where he could sip his drink in peace and then escape.

As he made his way cautiously through the crowds, Quentin could feel eyes on him and he tried to pretend he didn’t noticed.

He’d almost found a place to hide when …

“Margo? Margo!”

Quentin signed and turned to see Todd standing next to him dressed like Napoleon Dynamite, complete with wig.

“Todd,” Quentin said.

“Margo,” Todd said. “You’re looking like, epically hot.”

“Not Margo, Todd,” Quentin said.

“No, you’re totally Margo,” Todd said. “This is Margo’s Welters uniform and you look just as hot in it as Margo does, so you must be Margo.”

“Todd.”

Quentin’s eyes widened when he heard Eliot’s voice from behind him.

“Eliot!” Todd said.

“An hour into the party and you’re already very drunk. You really should pace yourself,” Eliot said with a ‘tsk’. “Scram Napoleon, and leave Q alone.”

“Q?” Todd squinted and frowned at Quentin for a minute. “No, that’s totally Margo.” 

Quentin breathed a sigh of relief as Todd left him alone and disappeared into the crowd of people. But then his stomach clenched a bit when he realized Eliot was still there. He turned slowly to face Eliot and stared; Eliot was dressed in a dark purple pinstripe double breasted suit with a dark purple fedora pulled low over his eyes.

“You’re a gangster,” Quentin said a bit dumbly.

“And you’re supposed to be Margo,” Eliot said. “You look positively adorable. Was this Margo’s doing?”

“I lost a bet,” Quentin mumbled, tugging a bit at his skirt. He felt his cheeks flush when he felt Eliot’s hands on his, pulling them away from his skirt.

“You bet against Margo?” Eliot said. “Even I learned never to do that.”

“Well now I know,” Quentin muttered. “And I had to come down here and have one drink before Margo would let me go.”

“Everyone’s too drunk by now to recognize you,” Eliot murmured.

“Except you,” Quentin whispered.

“I know Margo,” Eliot said. “I’d know her profile anywhere.”

“Oh.” Quentin ducked his head and stared down at his sweater. He felt his cheeks warm when he felt Eliot’s finger on his chin, tipping his head up so he was looking in Eliot’s eyes.

“And I know you,” Eliot whispered. “I saw you the instant you reached the bottom of the stairs.”

“Oh,” Quentin said, taking a big drink.

“You really do look lovely, Q,” Eliot said. “Not that you don’t always look lovely, even when Margo hasn’t gotten her claws in you.”

“Oh,” Quentin said again, taking another big drink and feeling his cheeks flush. He never could take a compliment, especially when someone as effervescent and lovely and charming as Eliot Waugh was the one complimenting him. He jumped when loud music suddenly started coming from a spot over near the fireplace. “A band?”

“No,” Eliot said. “Karaoke.” 

“Karaoke,” Quentin said. 

“Some people like it,” Eliot sad. “I prefer a live band myself, but I can make due with a recording if I have to.”

“You sing?” Quentin said.

“Oh Q,” Eliot said, reaching out and cupping Quentin’s cheek and running his thumb Quentin’s bottom lip. “I most definitely sing.”

Before Quentin could comment, Eliot disappeared, headed in the direction of the fireplace. A few moments later the music abruptly changed. Quentin recognized the music a bit and pushed his way through the crowds of people, curious. He heard a very familiar voice and moved faster.

Eliot had lost the jacket and stood in his suit pants, shirt and suspenders, fedora still pulled low over his face as he grabbed the mic.

“... loneliness  
Like a heartbeat drives you mad  
In the stillness of remembering what you had  
And what you lost, and what you had, and what you lost

Thunder only happens when it's raining  
Players only love you when they're playing  
Say women they will come and they will go  
When the rain washes you clean, you'll know, you'll know …”

Quentin stared at Eliot, feeling himself sway to the music. Eliot was hypnotic; his voice was like bourbon, a slow heat that built and left Quentin feeling all warm. Eliot kept tapping his right foot as he swayed and sang, and every once and a while he’d tap or stroke his chest and Quentin was entranced.

“Man, Waugh must be trying to impress someone.”

Quentin glanced over to where two students were chatting.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dude, he only sings when he’s trying to impress someone.”

Quentin reached up and ran his fingers over his lips as he watched Eliot perform, remembering how Eliot had touched him. He hadn’t even realized the song had ended until Eliot was standing in front of him.

“You put your coat back on,” Quentin murmured. “I like your suspenders.”

“I’m glad,” Eliot replied. “Did you like the song?”

Quentin smiled and nodded. “I did,” he said. “Very much.”

“Didn’t Margo say you had to have one drink and then you could leave?” Eliot said.

Quentin nodded again.

“Then finish the drink in your hand and we’ll get out of here,” Eliot said.

Quentin glanced down and blinked at the half empty glass in his hand. “Huh, forgot I had that,” he said. He downed the rest of the drink in two swallows, then shuddered and made a face. “Blegh.”

“Completely adorable,” Eliot said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Quentin tucked himself against Eliot’s side, letting Eliot push through the crowds. He felt one of Eliot’s hands resting on his lower back and felt his cheeks warm, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Margo watching him and Eliot and smiling. 

Quentin was grateful for Eliot’s help up the stairs - he wasn’t too adept at walking in the heeled boots Margo had put him in. Once they were in Eliot’s room, Quentin sat down on Eliot’s bed, letting his legs swing a bit.

“Margo really went for it, didn’t she?” Eliot asked as he crouched down at Quentin’s feet and unlaced the boots.

“You have no idea,” Quentin muttered, shifting on the bed a bit as the skirt rubbed against his ass.

“Oh, I might have some idea,” Eliot said as he removed Quentin’s boots and socks.

“Yeah?” Quentin said, then groaned when he felt Eliot’s hand gently massaging first one foot, then the other, Eliot’s fingers deftly digging into Quentin’s arches and turning Quentin into a puddle of goo.

“Yep,” Eliot said softly.

Quentin watched as Eliot kicked off his shoes, hung his jacket up and put the fedora on the dresser. Eliot turned back to Quentin and smiled, snapping his suspenders playfully.

“I really like your suspenders,” Quentin said, then blushed when Eliot stepped closer and took one of his hands, placing it on the suspender. Quentin ran his finger up and down one of Eliot’s suspenders, then snapped it lightly.

“They can be fun,” Eliot agreed. “Wanna get out of that outfit?”

“Need to wash my face and undo what Margo did to my hair,” Quentin muttered.

“I can help with that,” Eliot said, tugging Quentin off the bed and into the bathroom.

“Why don’t you sing more?” Quentin asked suddenly, watching Eliot dampen a washcloth.

“A singing Magician just sounds silly,” Eliot said as he approached Quentin and started gently wiping Quentin’s face.

“You have a beautiful voice,” Quentin said.

“Thank you,” Eliot said.

Quentin hummed and closed his eyes as he let Eliot take care of him. Once his face was clean, Quentin felt Eliot’s hands in his hair, removing the headband, then spraying Quentin’s hair with a bit of water, then gently bushing Quentin’s hair.

“Feels nice,” Quentin murmured. “Your hands, the brushing.”

“Well, I can only do so much right now,” Eliot said. “You’ll have to wash your hair tomorrow to completely undo what Margo did.”

“It’s fine,” Quentin said, opening his eyes and blinking up at Eliot.

“Q,” Eliot whispered.

“El,” Quentin whispered back.

“If I’m overstepping or assuming something, please tell me to stop and I will,” Eliot said before leaning down and claiming Quentin’s lips in a kiss.

Quentin only hesitated for a moment before eagerly returning Eliot’s kiss. He stood, still trying to remain kissing Eliot and wrapped his arms around Eliot’s torso, slipping his hands under Eliot’s suspenders. He felt Eliot’s hands on his ass and froze, suddenly remembering again the garment he was wearing under his skirt.

“Too fast?” Eliot asked, pulling back a bit to look down at Quentin.

Quentin blushed and shook his head. “No, not too fast,” he said. 

“Don’t want to make out in a bathroom?” Eliot said, tucking a lock of hair behind Quentin’s ear.

“N-not really,” Quentin said.

“Okay, let’s move this to the bedroom, shall we?” Eliot said, tugging Quentin into the bedroom.

Once back in the bedroom, Quentin stood shyly next to the bed, hands behind his back.

“I have some sleep pants you can change into,” Eliot offered.

“Thanks,” Quentin said, but didn’t move.

Eliot smiled and started to undress. First he slipped the suspenders off his shoulders, then he unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, tossing it in the corner. The pants with suspenders joined the shirt and then the socks, leaving Eliot in his boxer briefs in front of Eliot.

“Level the playing field?” Eliot coaxed gently.

Quentin shyly slid off the bed and stood facing Eliot; he tugged off the sweater first and tossed it into the pile of Eliot’s clothes, but then his hands hesitated at the waistband of his skirt, though the top of the butt lifter was visible over the top of the skirt. Quentin closed his eyes and shoved the skirt down, stepped out of it and tossed it over with the rest of the clothes.

“Margo made me wear it,” Quentin muttered, staring down at the floor. He saw Eliot’s feet stop in front of his, then felt Eliot’s hands run down his back and rest on his ass.

“Looks okay to me,” Eliot murmured, kissing Quentin sweetly. “But I can see you’re uncomfortable.”

“A little,” Quentin admitted.

Eliot released his hold on Quentin’s ass, stepped over to the dresser and rummaged around for a minute, returning to his spot in front of Quentin with two pairs of sleep pants. Eliot pressed one pair of pants into Quentin’s hands before tugging the second pair on.

“You can use the bathroom to get out of the butt lifter and change into the pants,” Eliot offered.

“Thanks,” Quentin said, standing on his toes and pressing a kiss to Eliot’s cheek before practically running to the bathroom. A few moments later he was changed and exited the bathroom to find the lights off and Eliot laying in bed.

“You can go back to your room,” Eliot offered, “or you can come join me in bed. To sleep.”

Quentin cautiously crossed the room and slipped under the covers, rolling onto his side and looking at Eliot.

“I like you,” Quentin said softly. “It’s the one thing in my suddenly crazy and almost surreal life that makes sense.”

“And I like you,” Eliot said. “Like, to a degree that almost frightens me. I don’t want to fuck anything up but I really want this.”

Quentin smiled and shifted closer, until he could rest his head on Eliot’s chest, arm slung across Eliot’s waist.

“We’ll figure out it out together,” Quentin whispered “Learn as we go.”

“Learn as we go, huh?” Eliot said, carding his fingers through Quentin’s hair.

“It’ll be an adventure,” Quentin murmured. “Hey El?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you … sing me to sleep?” Quentin asked.

“Sing you to sleep, huh?” Eliot said, giving Quentin’s hair a playful tug. “Only for you, Q, only for you.”

Quentin hummed happily and snuggled in closer, tucking his legs between Eliot’s and closing hie eyes.

“ … Oh, Puff, the magic dragon  
Lived by the sea  
And frolicked in the autumn mist  
In a land called Honalee …”

Quent drifted off to sleep with Eliot’s hand in his hair, Eliot’s voice in his ears and the promise a new adventure on the horizon.

Maybe he’d send Margo some flowers.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI, if you're interested, you can see what the butt lifter looks like [here](https://xdress.com/collections/new-male-lingerie/products/mens-butt-lifter-underwear?variant=12335971008606)
> 
> Also, Eliot is singing Dreams by Fleetwood Mac, a song which I actually got to see Hale perform almost 2 months ago. You can find the video [here](http://machtaholic.tumblr.com/post/174711564215/hale-appleman-singing-a-cover-of-fleetwood)


End file.
